Lockdown
by northcaroline
Summary: It is May 23, 2026, and Peter Bishop has initiated a lockdown.


Title: Lockdown  
>Characters: PeterOlivia, Walter  
>Rating: K+<br>Summary: It is May 23, 2026, and Peter Bishop has initiated a lockdown.  
>Spoilers: None.<br>Disclaimer: I do not pretend to own _Fringe_.  
>AN: So, I was thinking-if/when this all gets worked out and Peter returns, will he still have the knowledge of the future? And if he knows when Olivia is supposed to die ... what happens when that day arrives? This is that day.

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><p>It is May 23, 2026, and Peter Bishop has initiated a lockdown.<p>

No one is to come or go from the house for the next 24 hours. Hell, if he had his way, they'd _never_ go outside. They'd just stay within these four walls, together, forever. Of course, he knows they'd get sick of each other—would especially get sick of Walter—and that they'd miss the city and the Boston house and maybe even their cases. But for today, there is no outside. There are no other people.

Olivia suspects why, but she's too frightened to ask. Over the last fifteen years, Peter has shared little pieces of his glimpse of the future. Mostly she knows it was dark, and that they've managed to avoid most of that darkness. Usually when she asks, he refuses to share his "spoilers," only promising her that this life is much better. She knows better than to question his fear of today, respecting his desire to keep their little family holed up at the lake house.

She wakes up in their creaky bed at the lake to find that he is already awake, sitting in the rocking chair on the other side of the room, watching her with a stare that is intense, but warm. She can see the weight of his pain in his eyes, and she wishes she could help him. When he realizes she's awake, he moves from the chair back to the bed, crawling in behind her and pulling her close, like always. She rolls over to face him, smiling.

"You're cold," she says.

"Well, warm me up, then," he replies, in that husky morning whisper she loves.

She laughs and kisses him, happy to start something, especially if it will lighten his mood. Unfortunately, they're interrupted by the sound of bare feet on the hardwood floor, hearing the warning noise just in time to disentangle before their bedroom door bursts open. In a flash, the blur pounces onto the bed, giggling.

"Morning!" she says, kneeling at their feet.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," Peter laughs. At nine years old, she is nearly a mirror image of her namesake grandmother, all delicate features and curly brown hair. She has her mother's eyes, though. "Is your brother awake?"

"No. Still sleeping." Charlie is four, but he'd sleep until noon every day if they'd let him. Maybe today they will.

"Can we go fishing today?"

"Not today," Peter says. Olivia was an easy sell, but the kids will be harder to convince. His favorite part of bringing them to the lake house is being outside with them—fishing, rides in the rowboat, bonfires. But today, he only sees danger.

Elizabeth pouts. "Why not?" she whines.

"Because we're having an inside day," Olivia answers, letting Peter off the hook. She sits up and hugs her daughter, kissing the top of her head. Peter remembers, plain as day, the sad look in Olivia's eyes when they discussed children on that _other_ day, and he is thankful she will never know that emptiness. "I bet if you ask nicely, your grandpa will make pancakes, and then later we can build a big fort in the living room." Olivia tries to make it sound exciting, and definitely the opposite of what it is—_waiting out this day on which, in an alternate reality, your father witnessed something awful happening to our family_.

Their daughter concedes that this plan sounds moderately fun, and Olivia sends her downstairs to find Grandpa and get started on breakfast.

Once she is gone, Peter takes off his _everything is normal_ face and releases a heavy, stressed sigh, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"What are you so afraid of, Peter?" she whispers. She thinks the last time she saw him this distraught was when Walter had his stroke three years ago. (He's fine now—he struggles with speech sometimes and with moving the right side of his body, but he is no less brilliant or enthusiastic than he was before.)

"That I can't stop it. That it's destiny, and no matter what I do, or how hard I try, they'll just take you from me, anyway."

She tenses for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eye. "_Me_?"

His face sinks. He's never confessed what _actually_ happened (Happens? Will happen?) on this day—he never wanted to scare her. It's a burden he's carried all alone, and will be glad to be rid of tomorrow morning.

"Honey, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" he says, low. Vulnerable in a way she's rarely seen him.

"Promise. I mean, I'm going to want breakfast in a while, but that's it."

"Okay," he accepts, pulling her close and kissing her again. There's a part of him trying to make sure has her completely memorized, so that in case anything does happen to her, he will have as much as possible to cling to. He breathes in the smell of her hair, runs a finger over the freckle on her collarbone, kisses the corner of her mouth where he can feel her smile.

_Soon, they will go downstairs to find Walter teaching Elizabeth how to make blueberry pancakes. Peter will watch them from the kitchen table, pulling a bleary-eyed Charlie into his lap when he drags himself out of bed. He will wonder on these little miracles, on the magic that gave him this instead of that. _

_They will build a fort in the living room and play hide and seek and take a long afternoon nap. At one point, Peter will see his father, this man who made the world different, playing checkers with his son, and he will be overwhelmed with gratitude. Just as Olivia will never know what could have been, Walter will never know what _was_, how he set the universes right and brought this chance back to his family._

_He will keep a close eye on Olivia all day, but he will also somehow trust that this is different and she will survive. And when their children finally fall asleep after dinner, he will close and lock their bedroom door and finish what they started that morning. And when the clock ticks to midnight, he will know, once and for all, that it was worth it._

For now, though, he watches her stretch and promise to get the coffee started. Peter reaches for his watch on the nightstand—it is 7:12 AM.


End file.
